


Sociopath By Choice

by illidari



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Male Character of Color, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Male Character, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 18:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illidari/pseuds/illidari
Summary: After growing up with a psychologically abusive father, Archie Davis decides shutting out any sort of emotion is the best way to deal with the trauma. As you read the story, you begin to learn more about Archie and the every day issues he has to go through. Archie Davis is a 17 year old African-American who's mom and dad are out of the picture, currently living with his grandmother.





	Sociopath By Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for incorrect grammar.

It's 6:17 am. The weather is warm and the air is crisp. The sun is out and the birds are chirping.

I wake up to my alarm clock ringing for the third time, I click the off button and sit up in the bed, looking over at my younger brothers on the other air mattress. They're such deep sleepers, I could bang pans together and they wouldn't even twitch. I sit there for a moment and wonder if that's a blessing or a curse, deciding on the latter. Just as I'm about to get up, my grandmother's dog Rufus runs into the bedroom and onto my bed. He pants in my face as he climbs into my lap, licking my chin. I quickly push him away from me and stand up, pointing at the door. He knows I want him out and he looks real disappointed, but I don't care. He gets annoying. How does a 13 year old beagle still have that much energy? I open the dresser I have to share with my younger brothers, pulling out a white t-shirt and pulling it over my head. I put my arms through and quickly put on a pair of faded blue jeans, tucking in the shirt to hide the hole in the bottom.

I opened the bedroom door and walked through the living room to the open kitchen. My grandmother's trailer home was small, but a whole hell of a lot better than living with my father. The old house was nice. It was a good sized colonial home, and would've been homey despite all the shit that went on behind closed doors. I still remember the days when my mom was alive, we were happy for the most part. We were like any other family in the sense that holidays were times to be happy and celebrate our healthiness, and that dinner times were always spent together at the table. One day my mother had brought back me and my brothers a hamster. We named him Jerry, and god did we love that little guy. I remember waking up early to see if he was awake so we could give him treats, but he never was. We didn't understand that nocturnal meant they prefer to sleep during the day, so we would play video games until he was awake. When I was 12 years old, my mother had informed us that was 5 months pregnant with our little sister. We were excited, but nervous. We didn't know what having a sister would be like, but we were happy. Despite having a healthy pregnancy and every test came back saying everything was fine, my mother miscarried. She was devastated and not soon after, she killed herself. I was the one who found her, and I will never forget it. It haunts me to this day. Seeing my own mother's lifeless body hanging from the basement ceiling was enough to traumatize me. What made it worse was the fact that my brothers weren't old enough to understand. Uriah was only 8, and Simon was 10. My father didn't seem to care, but perhaps he did and didn't show it. Though, he didn't shed a single tear at the funeral. He then took us on a 3 hour flight and moved us to Michigan near my grandmother, where he eventually just gave us away to her and took off to God knows where. I miss Colorado sometimes, the weather was nice. All my friends were there. Riding bikes with my brothers down the street, listening to relaxing music on the old mp3 player tucked into the bike basket. I miss that so much. Spending time with them was the best way to get away from my father's constant nagging, always tearing us apart with his words.

My memories keep disrupting my breakfast, so I quit thinking about it. I continue to eat my cereal, staring at the wall. So it's going to be one of those days.


End file.
